


You're an idiot Jessica Jones

by orphan_account



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, F/F, Firefighter, Growing Up AU, idk - Freeform, kind of, like jessicas family never died but trish and her still grew up together au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5316080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It comes again, the small moment of hesitation where Jessica can see the universe drift fleetingly through over Trish’s face, before she changes her words last minute. “When you step through a door,” She punctuates carefully. “Do you think you are stepping into a place or out of one?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're an idiot Jessica Jones

When Jessica first finds out about her strength, it’s in gym class.

They’re inside, due to the torrential rain, and the hall is uncomfortably lit, like an interrogation room. She holds a basketball in her hand, not a proper one like she’s seen on television, but a school issued one, a murky pink colour with an uncomfortable texture that grates at her hands.

The room is chaos, twenty or so girls gossiping about who said what last Friday as they half-heartedly lob balls around, with the rain violently smashing against the doors outside and the gym teacher – an old man with a moustache that makes him look related to a walrus – lazily reading a cheap gadgets magazine in the corner.

Standing with her back to a wall, Jessica narrows her eyes at the hoop on the other side of the room, as if it had just challenged her in mortal combat. Stepping forwards, her dirty red sneaker pointing out, she brings her arm around quickly and hauls the disgustingly coloured ball across the hectic room. It misses.

Jessica watches the basketball deflate against the white bricked wall at the other side of the room and is too shocked to notice the absurd look that stuck up girl from math is giving her. Only when she speaks does Jessica look up. “How did you do that?”

“Uh…” Scuffing her feet together, Jessica shrugs.

“You’re like, super strong.” The girl continues, and Jessica looks up, trying to remember her name. “You’re Jessica Jones right?”

“Yeah.” Jessica smiles, the deflated ball lying empty and forgotten on the floor across the room. Something finally clicks in her mind and she places a name to the soft red hair and commercialized smile. “And you’re Patsy Walker.”

“Ugh.” The girl, Patsy, shivers. “Please don’t call me that.”

“Sorry…” Jessica curls up on herself. “How about Trish?”

She smiles, and for the first time since the conversation started it looks genuine. “I like it.”

A quietness falls between them, despite the squeaking of the class and the howling of the weather, before Trish speaks up again. “So, do you do pilates or something?”

Laughing, Jessica shrugs. “Not really.” 

*

“You know my mom thinks I’m only friends with you to get back at her.” Trish dangles her legs off the branch that she and Jessica are sitting on.

Around them, the frost covered ground shimmers in the weak winter sun and Jessica collects some snow out of a nook in the tree and throws it at a twig, watching it break with a smug smile of satisfaction. “Tell her she’s wrong.” She says it simply, but it’s not simple, not at all. She and Trish both know that.

“I don’t need to.” Trish smiles, the cold has sanded at her cheeks and the tip of her nose, making them red, and her eyes are watering slightly from the crisp air. “We have each other right?”

“Trish?” Carefully Jessica moves forwards on the branch, her coat crinkling into the quiet around them. “Is everything okay?”

“Just-” Turning to face Jessica, Trish takes her hand gently. “Promise you won’t ever leave me.”

The words escape Jessica’s mouth, warm steam into the cold air, mingling with the pale sky and mixing into the icy clouds. “I promise.”

*

They’re lying on Jessica’s bed, looking up at the peeling ceiling. The blankets on the bed are blue, like the sky and Trish’s eyes and the walls are painted stroke by stroke into the haze of the afternoon. There’s a slight crack in the curtains and Trish is absentmindedly raking her fingers through Jessica’s hair. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm.” Jessica opens her eyes, letting the slither of light in the room slowly slither under her eyelids. “As long as it’s not where to hide the body, because I’m not sure our friendship is that deep.”

Gently, Trish shoves her shoulder. “Oh please, if anyone here is doing the murder it’s you.”

“I don’t know.” Jessica shifts to look at Trish. “You can be pretty brutal.”

A soft smile waltzes on Trish’s lips as she looks down at her friend, seemingly stuck in a state of contemplation. She looks as if she has the world on the tip of her tongue, but all that comes out is “I would help you hide the body.”

Flickering like a black and white movie, Jessica smiles. “I know.” She pauses. “What did you want to ask me?”

It comes again, the small moment of hesitation where Jessica can see the universe drift fleetingly through over Trish’s face, before she changes her words last minute. “When you step through a door,” She punctuates carefully. “Do you think you are stepping into a place or out of one?”

Chuckling quietly, Jessica shakes her head. “Of all the questions you could’ve asked me.”

“Come on.” Trish whines. “Just answer the stupid question.”

“Okay.” Jessica grins. “But the answer’s obvious.”

“Oh really.” Cocking an eyebrow, Trish touches her tongue to her top teeth. “What is it then?”

Smiling, Jessica moves closer to Trish, taking her hand and linking their warm fingers together. “It depends wherever you are of course.”

*

“First day of training.” Trish grins across their shared bathroom. “Nervous?”

“Jessica Jones does not get nervous.” Jessica replies, though her words are muffled as she brushes her teeth, white foam frothing from her lips as she speaks.

Lifting up her top, Trish worms her head out of it, spluttering as all her hair gets in her face. “Oh yeah?”

Spitting out her toothpaste, Jessica glances across at Trish, whose skin is glowing in the cheap yellow light of their bathroom. She’s flawless, which is a fact Jessica came to accept a long time ago, the only mark on her clear skin being a slightly green patch spread across her ribs. “Is that a bruise?”

“What?” Trish looks down, spotting the watercolour pattern across the canvas of her skin. “Oh yeah.” She waves her hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

Rushing over to her friend, Jessica skids her feet on the blue and white tile floor. Reaching out, she touches Trish’s warm skin, her fingers dancing gently across her ribs, just skimming the edge of her bra. Looking up, Jessica breathes. “How can I not worry? Is it your mom?”

“No.” Trish flushes. “It’s actually kind of embarrassing.” She laughs softly.

“What happened?” Jessica smiles. “Were you playing the floor is lava or something?”

Mumbling something, Trish avoids eye contact.

“What was that?” Jessica is teasing her now.

“I said, I fell trying to get the last box of cinnamon toast crunch at the store.” Trish says with a completely straight face and Jessica laughs, not because it’s embarrassing or unusually funny, but because it’s such a _Trish_ thing to do.

Slowly Trish lets a grin infiltrate her face and they stand, revelling in each other in the middle of their cold bathroom floor. Eventually, Trish coughs. “Um, I need to shower.”

“Yeah sure.” Jessica nods, still smiling at the glimmer in Trish’s eyes.

“Jess?” Trish whispers.

“Yeah.”

“Your hand is still on my stomach.”

Retracting her hand quickly, Jessica flushes, stepping out of the way. “Sorry.”

Drawing the translucent shower curtain shut with a rattle, Trish shouts. “No problem. Hey, aren’t you gonna be late for your training?”

*

Jessica likes her job. Screw that, Jessica _loves_ her job, and there are only a few things she loves like Trish and trashy television and Trish and good food and _Trish._

Her job is perfect for her and her… _abilities._ It was Trish’s idea, but Jessica’s agreement, and now she’s a firewoman – they _did_ used to always joke about her future job including a pole.

It’s great because it allows her to use her strength for something _good_ , satisfying what Trish affectionately calls her hero complex, whatever that means. She likes the office, with its mint green walls and undusted ceiling stretching over her head like an aeroplane taking off. The people are bearable too, the captain reminds her of her old gym teacher, except funny, his thick moustache bouncing as he laughs.

The whole life in danger thing is a risk she’s willing to take.

Fire has always fascinated Jessica. She used to steal matches off her parents and sit in a corner somewhere, lighting them and seeing how close she could let the flame get to her fingers before she burned them. Of course, as a firefighter, she now knows that playing with matches is _bad._

Not that it stops the part of her mind that has always curled up in the smell of smoke and let flames roar in its belly.  

She comes home with burns sometimes and Trish is always there with some form of ointment to fuss and scold Jessica about getting too close.

“You should’ve seen it Trish.” Jessica always says. “The colours winding through the flames as they devoured, you should’ve seen it. They were unstoppable.”

“Not as unstoppable as you.” Trish smiles, placing a kiss on Jessica’s shoulder. “Who did you save today, my hero?”

“Oh just a cat.” Jessica replies. “It meowed for me pretty gratefully.”

“I’m sure.” Trish smirks, removing her hands from where she’s been rubbing cream on a burn across Jessica’s shoulder and Jessica feels hollow at the lack of touch.

“I’m still sore.” She pouts playfully and Trish laughs, shaking her head.

“Well that’s what you get when you play with fire.” Trish moves closer yet again, taking Jessica’s hand. Heavy lidded, she whispers. “Lighters, matches never touch.”

Jessica burns.

*

She’s lifting a beam out the way of a burning doorway when it hits her. Not the beam, her heart.

Her heart slams into her full speed ahead as she watches amber sparks eat away at the doorframe of the house. Someone passes her. “Jones, pick up the pace, there’s still a woman left in here.”

Shaking her head, Jessica jolts back into action. They save the woman, and it’s all tears and grateful smiles and it’s not until Jessica is sitting on the bus on the way home, picking at the musty carpet of the seat and letting tiredness wash in waves gently over her body when it hits her again.

She loves Trish. Well, she already knew that, but she _love_ loves her, her brain exclaiming the phase like it’s still in middle school and has had a eureka moment of who do you fancy.

Trish is, well, everything. Her blonde hair falling in front of her face and the little crinkle of her nose as she laughs. The way she dances across their living room when the radio crackles out a song she knows and her face lighting up at the smallest of things. Trish is _animated,_ alive and colourful, the fire that Jessica was never really allowed to touch but let it burn the tips of her fingers anyway.

She wants to be _engulfed_.

*

They’re lying on the couch when the words slip out of Jessica’s mouth. Some television show is on, and Jessica is usually all for the dumbness of trashy television but she can only focus on how the glow of the screen illuminates across Trish’s cheekbones and jawline and the touch of their legs pressed together and how she took off her shoes because she knows Trish doesn’t like shoes by the couch. Why did she take them off, that’s a stupid rule?

_Because you love her._

“Because I love you.” Jessica mumbles, not noticing she’s spoken until she meets Trish’s inquisitive eyes.

“What?” Trish furrows her brow, and now neither of them are paying attention to the show.

Picking at the couch, her fingers playing in the dark blue thread, Jessica explains. “I was thinking about why I took off my shoes at the front door, because I think it’s stupid, but then I realised it’s because I love you.” She says it so bluntly.

Taken aback, Trish smiles slightly. “You think my rules are stupid?”

“Umm.” Jessica looks at the wooden floorboards. “No?”

“You’re an idiot Jessica Jones.” Trish murmurs softly. “And I love you too.”

“You do?” Jessica asks, turning to face Trish.

“Of course I do.” Trish grins, shifting closer to Jessica. “Why else would I put up with you?”

“Umm.” Jessica can smell Trish’s expensive perfume and she swallows. “Just to clarify, we are talking about love of the romantic kind here.”

“You’re not the smoothest person, you know that?” Trish raises an eyebrow.

“But are w-” Jessica’s speech is cut off by Trish’s warm lips and it feels like home. Slowly, she pushes back into the kiss, resting her hand on Trish’s thigh and sighing contentedly. The flames she was always fascinated by begin to burn up her stomach.

Gently, Trish pulls back. “Does that answer your question?”

“I don’t know.” Jessica smiles, glancing down at Trish’s lips. “You might have to tell me again.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a specific trishica blog come join the fun over at trishicatrash.tumblr.com


End file.
